Act III - Spider in the Web
by ChrisTR
Summary: The saga continues...
1. Default Chapter

Spider in the Web  
  
A StarTrek Novel  
  
Written by:  
  
ChrisTR  
  
Disclaimer : Certainly, you should by now know what's supposed to stand here! If Paramount wants to sue me, off they go, but I doubt that they'd gain very much from doing so. Anyway, yes the universe belongs to Paramount…Hail to the chief baby!  
  
But, this story belongs to me, as do some characters and some technical equipment..well, yeah.  
  
Archiving, downloading, even printing is no problem as long as ya e-mail me, and keep the name and that bloody disclaimer attached...oh yeah. My notes too.   
  
Background : Yatta Yatta...Let's make something clear…if you haven't read the previous ones, don't even try this story. But, probably, you will. So, here's a summary:  
  
Voyager is back home! But they were pretty surprised when Dominion war was still going on. When Paris and Tuvok were captured on a mission, they were even more surprised. But their surprise was stretched to its limit when they were rescued from a Cardassian Prison by a joint Federation/Romulan task force. Surprise however, was no longer adequate when they learned that now there was an alliance between the Rommies and the Feds, and they were forced to resort to astonishment.   
  
Not that much surprising however will it be, when I say that helm-boy and our favourite chief engineer have found out that they are...quite fond of each other, after all.   
  
  
  
Author's Note :Ha! Did you see? There was some P/T in the last one, AFTER ALL! :) So, I'm trying to keep that up now, but perhaps there will be more concentrated efforts on the story. For a change. Or perhaps not. Because if there were, I'd have to look for another site to even post it. Ts, ts...  
  
Feedback will be appreciated, enshrined, and carefully read! Oh yeah, and answered by the way. And even personnally answered! Feel free to write. You liked it? You hated it? You survived it (severely wounded) ? Tell me about it! Everything, from praise to scorn, goes to: zEnStOlCh@hotmail.com  
  
.  
  
Dedicated to Robert Mason, Pilot, Bravo Company, 229th Assault Helicopter Battalion, 1st US Cavalry Division (Airmobile) in Vietnam, from August 1965 to July 1966.   
  
I recommend his book, ChickenHawk, where he recalls his time in Nam, to everyone. It's not a book for weak stomachs, but it's one bloody, painfully honest and courageous book, and its powerful message will stay in the memory, long after the last page has been turned.  
  
PS : In the prequel to this thing, I seem to have forgotten to thank a certain Matthew Edwards (or so), for introducing me to Section 31, of which I had no clue up to that point, and for giving me feedback, which is, hardly need to tell you, vitally important, for any author. If I can be descirbed as such. So, in his own words, Cheers !  
  
There is a greater darkness than the darkness we fight. It is the darkness of the soul, that has lost its way. The war we fight is against powers or principalities, but also against chaos and dispair.   
  
Greater than the death of flesh, is the death of hope. The death of dreams. It is a peril we can never surrender. The future is all around us; waiting, in moments of transition, to be reborn, in moments of revelation. No one knows the shape of that future, or where it will take us. We know only, that it is always born in pain.  
  
Author's Note (Prolonged) :  
  
You should have noticed by now : This is turning out to be more than just another Paris/Torres story.  
  
Infact, Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres have ceased to be the principal characters in this tale. From now on, they will have a more subdued part in this, if any. For some time now I have grown increasingly unsatisfied with those two. And anyway, there are far too many characters in the series already, and I have complicated things further, by introducing my own. But I felt that it was necessary. I have been an eager fan of the Star Trek series throughout the years, and I will continue to be one, I deem, for a long time.  
  
But one thing I dislike about it : there is no magic. In the 24th century, God doesn't seem to exist anymore.  
  
Apart perhaps from Jim Kirk, there are no legends left, a deplorable fact, in my opinion. In short, to me Star Trek has lost some of its appeal, and I am trying to bring it back, in my own story. The Romulans have been ignored for the biggest part of the series' history. In a way that pleases me, because it allows me to create my 'own' Romulans. I can give them a culture, I can create their myths and legends, their religions and cults. Perhaps I succeed in giving back a part of the magic that Star Trek once had. Perhaps not. But it's worth a try.   
  
What I will now say will shock and anger some, but to me ST Voyager is a disappointment. This may be because I have yet to see the latest episodes, but as of now, I don't watch it anymore. The best of all the series was, without the shadow of a doubt The Next Generation. Just think of the many new races and cultures we've encountered there; Ferengi, Cardassians, Borg. There were highly spiritual episodes such as the one where they trace a genetical puzzle back to its origins to find out that all the principal races are descendant from one 'mother'-race. TNG had a message to transmit. Voyager ?  
  
Voyager is full of races that are no longer wodnerous but only bizarre, sometimes even righteous stupid. Just think of these ridiculous TacTac or how they were called. As for Neelix, he's a clown, and little more. For 4 years now, there were opportunities to get nearer to the Talaxian history and culture, but naught was down. Characters in Voyager are for the greatest part flat and unrealistic, one-sided, and generally the whole Voyager universe is black-and-white. Good and evil. Voyager are the good guys. The rest are bad guys. Nothing in between.  
  
Janeway as allmighty mother-figure is tiresome, and even everyone's favourite, Tom Paris is, of late, simply getting on my nerves.   
  
Now, I don't claim that my own characters are better, that is not for me to decide, but at least, over the time, I did see an opportunity to explain one particular race in detail, even to recreate it, if you want, and I intend to grasp it.   
  
'Sacrifice of Angels' was originally intended to be a sappy, simple, flat romance of perhaps 30 pages, if that (I, of all, am more amazed at what it gradually has become than you). Now I know all of you who have read this far did so because they expected precisely that. But nevertheless, I hope that the story herein told was grasping enough for you to be curious on how it will all end.   
  
This story is posted on a P/T site.  
  
I know.  
  
But I hope Wanda will post this anyway, this and also the remaining parts of 'Midnight on the Firing line'.  
  
It may not be Parris/Torres anymore. But it is Star Trek, and as such it should be worth reading.  
  
Now fades the glimm'ring landscape on the sight,  
  
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,  
  
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,  
  
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds;  
  
-Thomas Gray, Epitaph  
  
___________  
  
Three days after the events in "Price of the Admiralty"  
  
______________  
  
Prologue  
  
Paris, Europe  
  
Earth  
  
On Earth, the assassin was called Carl Cole.   
  
Whistling merrily to himself, he made his way through Luvonparc. When he passed the ice-skating ring, he heard the happy laughter and giggling of children, and huddled himself deeper in his warm coat. It was winter, icy-cold, and he drew his green scarf closer, not so much as to cover his face, but to keep the frosty wind away.   
  
Carl Cole had no reason to hide. On Earth, he was as unknown and inconspicuous as any other citizen, who had come here, and worked half-days at a flower shop.   
  
Beneath his boots, the frozen snow cracked. Most people had gathered at the skating ring or the Snack-shop. But there were some two or three tracks, of daring and intrepid people, who had defied the almost hip-high snow, and taken the way Cole was now walking. Some metres away, a couple of children were lying in the snow, moving their arms up and down, to draw angels in the snow.  
  
If he had really been Carl Cole, the cold would have driven him home, very quickly. But as assassin, he could afford such a weakness.   
  
In his usual morning newspapers, he had found the expected message, under "Lost-Found" :  
  
« Searching :Fled wolfhound, answers to the name LITA. 2yo, Reward »  
  
The message in itself wasn't extraordinary, but it contained the keywords he needed.  
  
Before long, he came to an old, shabby-looking hut, made entirely of wood.  
  
Carl Cole would have walked by, without looking at it.  
  
But the assassin approached the east-ward wall of the house, and knelt before it. He lifted up a big stone, and from underneath it took a small bit of paper. It looked very old, and torn. One half missed, and it seemed that it had contained a major part of the message.   
  
Now, only 2 lines were left :  
  
36-4  
  
A7-22-7-K1H  
  
He re-read the message twice, then threw the bit of paper in a waste container.   
  
Slowly, as if continuing his little walk, he approached the computerized citymap. First, he just walked by. Then he halted, and turned, as if he had forgotten something. For three seconds, he looked at nothing in particular, then he touched a number of glyphs on the display. It now showed a scheme of the monorail stations in Paris.  
  
One hour later, the assassin arrived at the 'Gare du midi', and left his monorail compartment. He crossed the entrance lobby, only stopping once, to give Carl the opportunity to admire the architectural design of the building, then he approached a row of lockers.   
  
He found locker 36-4, and entered the access code.  
  
A7-22-7-K1H  
  
The display showed him that he had to pay a fee of 45 credits. He entered his ID card, and fed the computer. The display changed, to show him a flashing, green OPEN.  
  
From inside the locker, he took a small isolinear chip, and put it in a pocket inside his coat, and left the lobby. The assassin could have afforded a taxi, but Carl Cole waited for the next monorail.  
  
It was already dark when he finally arrived at his home.  
  
In his appartment, he took the chip and inserted it into his computer. He switched it on, and the machine began working.   
  
A dialog-box appeard on his screen, with a question mark and a blinking cursor in it. He entered the name of the lost dog, Lita, and checked the orthography, before he pressed the CONFIRM glyph. A mistake would have led to the destruction of the chip and the data it contained. Such a mistake would have been inexcusable, and he would not get a second chance.   
  
His computer accepted. The program on the chip was activated, and the computer began foraging all the planet's newspaper of this particular day. The majority was useless. Of the rest, pages and articles were searched for particular keywords. Another part of the program took these words, and re-grouped them. When the action was finished, the computer beeped. On its display there was a seemingly random succession of words. To everybody else, it would have been nothing but gibberish.  
  
The assassin read it. The first word was made of 5 characters, so he passed the next four words, and read the fifth. That one had 7 characters, so he passed the next six words, etc. Slowly, he constructed the real message. When he had read it, he activated the last part of the program. The screen went black; the chip was formatted, and rendered useless. After taking it out of the machine, the assassin threw it away.   
  
Two months.  
  
He would have to wait for at least another two months.   
  
And then Carl Cole would die. 


	2. Chapter 1 - Shattered Steel

Chapter One - Shattered Steel  
  
Katherine Janeway was fuming, and anyone could see it. She stomped out of her office onto the bridge and sat down in her chair. After giving her a few minutes to calm down, Chakotay ventured to ask what was wrong.  
  
With an airy wave of her hand, she told him to wait, and turned around in her chair to look at the young Ensign manning the Ops-Station.  
  
'Ensign Kim, status report,' she demanded.  
  
Kim checked his console.   
  
'All systems up and running sir, except of course the warp-drive.'  
  
Janeway nodded. In their last engagement, the Dominion had scored severe hits on Voyager, and Carey, the young engineer replacing B'Elanna Torres, had been forced to dumb the warp core, leaving them stranded in the Cardassian Realm.  
  
'We're currently heading into Federation Space at full impulse,' Kim continued. 'No Dominion ships on long-range sensors. Looks like they lost us.'  
  
Janeway nodded grimly.  
  
'Bridge to Engineering.'  
  
'Carey here.'  
  
'Lieutenant Carey, what's your status.'  
  
'All systems nominal, sir. Tachyon emissions are stable, and I don't think we'll be getting any problems soon. Of course…' He hesitated. 'Of course, since we've dumped the core, we're effectively going nowhere.'  
  
Janeway ignored that last remark. 'Thank you Lieutenant,' she said, rising from her chair.   
  
She paced the bridge for a while, then stood to attention in front of the viewscreen which covered the entire front of the bridge.  
  
She coughed, to get everyone's attention, but that really was unnecessary.  
  
'Gentlemen,' she said. 'I've just had a call from StarFleet Command, and, to be very frank, we're in big trouble. The remaining ships of our Squadron have made it back to StarBase 89, though most of them are heavily damaged, and it looks like one of the Intrepids is beyond repair. This leaves us here, alone. Command hasn't got any ships to spare to stage a rescue operation, and we'll probably be detected by the Dominion, anyway. So that leaves us two options.'   
  
Janeway paused, mainly for effect.  
  
'Either we can try and evacuate Voyager using the Shuttles, or we surrender the ship to the Jem H'Adar.'  
  
Kim was the first to recover from his initial shock.   
  
'I say fight.'  
  
There were agreeing nods all over the bridge.  
  
Janeway shook her head, but Chakotay gave her no chance to protest.  
  
'Sir, of course I can't speak for the entire crew, but, personally, I'd never surrender to the Dominion.'  
  
'I feel exactly the same, Commander. And, giving the circumstances, we don't seem to have any other choice but to try it. I know there will be some crewmembers who'd rather surrender, but, as is often said, we're here to preserve democracy, not practice it.'  
  
__________  
  
Romulan Warship Endruga  
  
*Zirp*  
  
With a gasp and a sob, Talina bolted upright in her bed. Her hands and lips trembling, her face covered with wetness, she tried to focus on where and who she was.   
  
*Zirp*  
  
  
  
'Who is it!'  
  
*Zirp*  
  
With an unnerved moan, Talina sat up in her bed and tiredly rubbed her forehead. The same dream she had been having for the last three days had returned this night. Her last talk with Ian, and then...  
  
*Zirp*  
  
'Sal'tasnon!' She grabbed her pillow and flung it at the door. The soft fabric collided with the duranium-hardened doors, and slid off its surface to the ground.   
  
Painfully controlling herself, she swang her long legs over the edge of her bed, and grabbed the black robe lying on the far end of the bed.  
  
'Lights,' she ordered the computer when she got up to let her late visitor enter.   
  
'Open,' she said, standing some meters in front of her door.   
  
With the familiar hiss, the doors slid aside and revealed a tall man standing in the doorframe.  
  
'Captain Ryan?' Talina exclaimed.  
  
'Christopher, while I'm off duty. Please, may I come in?'   
  
Talina nodded her agreement and waved him in. She directed him to the couch and hesitated.  
  
'Can I offer you something to drink?' she finally resolved to say.  
  
Ryan smiled slightly and shook his head. 'Hardly. Those things can't replicate a serious Ale,' he said, gesturing at the replicator.  
  
Unfolding the arms before her chest, Talina moved to her wardrobe.  
  
Seconds later, she emerged again, holding a bottle of blue fluid and two small, narrow glasses. She placed them on the table and poured in two glasses of Romulan Ale.  
  
Ryan took his and drank of it. 'Why doesn't that surprise me?' he asked.  
  
Talina did her best to maintain a neutral expression.  
  
'Forgive me Captain, but it is very late...or very early. May I ask why you have come here?'  
  
Ryan took a deep breath. 'It's because of Ian. You see, Ian and I…We have been friends since I was fifteen. You could always rely on him, to be there when you needed someone. In good and in bad times, he'd stick to you, no matter what others said, or what happened. I was always proud to have him as friend, and I would've been very ungrateful if I wouldn't have sticked to him. Now that Ian's...gone, I somehow feel concerned about you.'  
  
Talina looked at him. 'Why should you?' she asked, her voice surprisingly calm.  
  
'He told me about you when he had that fight with the Klingons, the day before you both left for Corvus II. Well, I reckon I'm no Don Juan, but I've been in love myself before, and I do recognize the symptoms. I don't know what happened after that mission, but...let me put it this way: when you two were together, he was happy. You did him no end of good, particularly since he wasn't that grumpy anymore. Everyone noticed it. At least we noticed it…Christ, I sound like my gran! My apologies, I didn't want to get this mushy. Anyway, before he left, he told me it was over, and…well, whatever happened between you, I knew Ian very well, and he...believe me, he loved you.'  
  
Biting her lower lip, Talina blinked her tears away and nodded slightly.  
  
  
  
'Now, the reason why I have come here is quite simple. As his CO, I have to see through his personal belongings, to see what should be kept, stored, and what should be send back...to his family back home.  
  
He gave me the access code to his personal logs long ago; In any case, he said. Well, I went through them, and I found this.'  
  
Out of his pocket, he took a small data-crystal, enfolded in a paper-ribbon. Talina took it carefully and examined it.  
  
'Knowing Ian, you will already know what unit we both belong to, too.'  
  
At her slight nod, Ryan thought 'speak of Romulan efficiency'   
  
'We doesn't use isolinear chips, because they're too easy to crack. Data-crystals like that one are almost impossible to access without permission. Scan it with a tricorder, and it will ask you the access code. I have written it down his on that bit of paper; enter it, and the tricorder will display the message.'  
  
Talina looked at him silently.  
  
'Why do you give me this?' she asked.  
  
'You will understand when you see the message. I just thought, you might want to take a look at it.'  
  
'Thank you,' she whispered. 'Could you just...' Her voice trailed off.  
  
'Of course,' Ryan said, rising from the couch and heading towards the door. When they had opened, he turned in the doorframe  
  
'If you want to talk,' he said. 'Later I mean, please, don't hesitate.'  
  
She nodded. 'Thank you.'  
  
With the finality of a coffin-lid, the door closed.  
  
__________  
  
When Sela saw the human Captain Ryan leaving Talina's quarters, she knew that something wasn't right. She eyed him suspiciously, as he went down one of the ship's seemingly endless corridors. She didn't know - yet – how he had managed to beam, onboard this ship, but suspected Jera's, the nekekami's, hand in this. Apparently the two units, Rabid Fox and the Spirit Cats, were bonding, something which Sela observed with growing unrest.   
  
When she had entered the room, Sela was somewhat surprised to find Talina kneeling on the floor, in front of a grand window. The entire room was dark, the only light coming from a handful of candles. When her eyes had accustomed to the darkness, Sela saw that the other woman was clad in a ceremonial white kimono, and apparently meditating, oblivious to her presence. She heard the young woman chant, in a long-forgotten language.  
  
Sela coughed, and the chanting stopped.   
  
'Duì-bu-qui Sang-Jian-Jun Sela,' Talina apologized. 'Forgive me, I had not noticed your arrival.'  
  
Sela saw her own reflection in the window, and smiled. 'Qui. That much is obvious. It is I who should apologize, for intruding in your chamber.' She nodded. 'Though, I must say, I am surprised to find you in mourning. Is your family alright?'  
  
Talina straightened. 'My family is well, thank you Jian-Jun. I mourn the loss of a very good friend.'  
  
'I don't suspect it has anything to do with the human, Ryan, being here?'  
  
Only a vers slight quiver betrayed Talina's emotions, but Sela saw her reflection in the window shedding a tear. 'So it does have something to do with the human, has it?'  
  
As the younger woman tried to protest, Sela stopped her with a wave of her hand.  
  
'Don't bother,' she said. 'Did you really think your little liason with the human would go unnoticed? I know you and your equals have no respect for the Tal Shiar, but we are not an assembly of geriatric fool.'  
  
Talina lowered her head, but didn't reply.   
  
Sela looked down at the woman, and her expression softened somewhat.  
  
'Talina.' Sela let her voice drop to a whisper, and tried to put as much warmth into the name as she could. 'Look at me. My own mother was a human. I know them. They have their mistakes, they are weak, but they also are special. Both our races have more in common than those old, xenophobic fools of the senate realize. Both our races can be compassionate, but also ruthless. Both, we are capable of love and mercy, but also of extraordinary cruelty. Granted, they tend to complicate things unnecessary, but I don't hate them for that. They intrigue me, much in the same way that guinea-pigs intrigue scientists. Of course, I'd never admit that to anyone. And if you did, I should have to kill you.' The colonel kneeled down in front of Talina and grasped her shoulders. 'I didn't know Malenkov, and I doubt that I'd  
  
have approved much of your relationship, or even liked him, but as your kin, I am saddened by your loss.'  
  
So saddened, in fact, that I will graciously oversee what you have done here. Sela let her eyes wander disdainfully over the room. The Cult of Varesh is forbidden, you know that as well as I do, and death would be the appropriate punishment for your crime. Though I doubt the Tal Shiar would be able to get at you.   
  
Talina noticed that Sela's thoughts were wandering and stared defiantly up at her.   
  
And you know that, too. The nekekami definetively are getting too powerful. They have forced this cooperation with the humans on us, and for that alone they shall have to pay.   
  
'Now,' Sela said after a while. 'What did Ryan want?'  
  
__________  
  
As the data-crytal was inserted into the tricorder, the banner of the Federation appeared on a computer display on the opposite wall. The password was entered, and the logo was repaced by the image of Ian Malenkov. He was holding a PADD, the shirt of his uniformed unbuttoned, and rubbing his eyes tiredly. He looked up at the camera briefly, then back at his PADD. 'Sergej's mission was succesfull. He returned from ----' There was a brief pause as the computer blended out a part of the log entry classified as secret. '…last Tuesday. Intel Reports keep coming in from --------- and everything seems to be running smoothly. If that keeps on we'll be able to retire Eva from her assignment ahead of schedule.'  
  
He tossed the PADD aside, and leaned forward, burying his face in his hands.  
  
'I just got a report that they caught Adams while he was trying to get some information out. Chances are that he'll be tried for high treason and executed. Of course, he won't let that happen. The report got in yesterday. I suppose that he's done it by now. That leaves me with only one operative in ----------. He won't be of much help of course. But for now I have decided for him to remain in position. It's just as dad always used to say : If you're falling of a cliff, you might just as well try to fly. You've got nothing to lose.'  
  
He paused a moment, and supported his head with his right hand.  
  
'In a way…I feel the same way about Talina. I know it's ridiculous…I mean I fought Romulans. I killed Romulans. I saw good friends die, from Romulan hands. I should hate them all, and I should hate her. But I can't. As much as I try I can't hate her. When I am with her, it's jut like falling off a cliff…and yet…when I look into her eyes, I sometimes let myself think maybe….maybe, I really can fly.'  
  
His image on the screen froze.  
  
A slender hand reached out and touched the screen, where his mouth would have been.  
  
__________  
  
In Enterprise's Main Shuttle Bay, Lieutenant Commander Geordi LaForge knelt beside a pile of debris, running his tricorder over each of them. All throughout the room, other, larger, chunks of the Baruni, the shuttlecraft that exploded three days ago, taking with it its only passenger, some Ian Malenkov, of the StarFleet Security Branch. Geordi and his team of engineers had already run the usual series of tests, to determinate the cause of the accident. All they knew was that the antimatter-shielding went down, causing a massive explosion in the craft's reactor. But yet they had no clue whatsoever as to what caused the shielding to break down, in the first place.  
  
Geordi stood up and turned around, when he heard the bay's large doors open. He knew who had entered, even before he saw Jean-Luc Picard and Will Riker walking towards him. The bald Captain walked up to Geordi, glancing at the various debris that bordered his path. Geordi nodded at both of them. 'Sir.'  
  
'Mr. LaForge,' the Captain said, 'I understand you have found something?'  
  
'Yes, sir.' Geordi led them over to the large computer panel that stood next to the door, and activated it. After he had touched some glyphs, an alien script appeared on the display. It read:  
  
Elen Sila lumemn omentielvo  
  
Cuyo mellon! Na tama galad Sihaya  
  
And below it was the computer's translation into Federation Standard:  
  
A star has shone upon the hour of our meeting.  
  
Farewell, friend! Never forget, Sihaya.  
  
'The Computer has identified it as Romulan, sir,' Geordi said. 'From what we learned of the Black Box, it was sent to the shuttle shortly before the explosion.'  
  
Riker frowned. 'Sabotage?'  
  
'It looks like it, sir. It could be some sort of code, which triggered the explosion, though, given the length of the message, that seems unlikely. I'll have the computer thoroughly checked, as soon as we have fixed Data.'  
  
Picard looked up thoughtfully. 'How is Mr. Data?'  
  
'Well sir, the Cardassians almost ruined his processors. They weren't exactly careful on their search for information. But I think we'll have him ready by tomorrow. Almost certainly there will be no long-term damage.'  
  
Picard nodded, then looked up and tugged at his uniform. 'Very well,' he said, turning to leave. 'Keep me informed.'  
  
The stars are not wanted now; put out every one:   
  
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;   
  
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods:   
  
For nothing now can ever come to any good.  
  
Funeral Blues, by W.H. Auden  
  
---------------------------------- 


	3. Chapter 2 - Spite and Malice

Chapter Two - Spite and Malice  
  
On Romulus, one of the two Homeworlds of the Romulan race, a shadow rushed through the streets. It was late, very late. The lights shed only a dim light on the ancient paveway, as the hooded figure rushed through the thin and clam alleys. It was not a young man; he was rather fat and breathed heavily, but his movements betrayed not only his age, but also his past agility.   
  
The man stopped, and leaned against a wall. He knew they were coming. Stopping here for any length of time meant death, he knew, but he didn't have the energy nor strength left to go on. Let them take me, he thought, things will not change.   
  
'They can't stop us now,' he muttered, and grinned, as he felt cold metal penetrate his clothes.  
  
The grin remained, even after his cold body had been found in the morning.  
  
-  
  
Romulus  
  
Ministry of Security  
  
Antechamber to the Imperial Secretary  
  
'They have found Navish's body.'  
  
The Imperial Secretary looked up from his desk and put down the PADD he had been studying. His right hand wandered under his desk and activated a hidden device.  
  
'When?' he asked.  
  
His aide hesitated.  
  
'Go on,' the Secretary said. 'It is safe.'  
  
'This morning. He had been dead for 6 hours then. Assassinated. The knife still stuck in his body.' Tala, Imperial Under-Secretary produced a small ziplock bag from inside his tunic and laid it down on his superior's desk. The Secretary picked it up and turned it around in front of his eyes. He noticed a small inscription at the lower end of the dagger. A carefully crafted, elegant sign, that looked like two serpents entangled.   
  
He looked up at Tala and raised his eyebrows; 'Tal Shiar.'  
  
'Yes, sir.'  
  
'Well, we've seen it coming,' the Secretary said. 'We couldn't expect this to go on forever. Why Navish, though? He was an old man, long retired. He took no part in our planning.'  
  
'No, Batano. But if this is the systematical operation we've been expecting, it would be logical to start with most senior members. They don't know our organisation. Likely, they thought Navish was still involved in all our actions, even masterminding them.'  
  
"Possibly. Yet I think there is more to this than meets the eye."  
  
"Sir?"  
  
The Secretary frowned, concentrated. "What about his family?"  
  
"Navish has no living blood relatives, sir," the aide said, consulting his notepad. "He did have a brother, killed several years ago."  
  
"How did he die?"  
  
"According to this, he was an officer in the Imperial Fleet. The Scout ship he commanded encountered troubles with its singularity drive, apparently. Neither ship, nor crew have ever been found. He was listed as MIA for 5 years, then declared officially dead, last autumn. His name was Alidar Yarok."  
  
The Secretary's eyebrows rose in astonishment. He leaned forwards to consult his own computer terminal, accessing it through a series of passwords. A small, greyish column rose to his right, and he placed his thumb on top of it. Once the DNA scan confirmed his identiry, he was free to access the terminal's secret database.   
  
Korva Alidar. Alidar Korva. The name sounded familiar. He queried the computer and sat back in his chair to wait for the search to be concluded.  
  
His aide eyed him curiously, but knew better than to ask. Meanwhile there were other matters that required the Secretary's attention.  
  
"About Navish, sir?"  
  
The Secretary considered this. "Prepare an obituary to be broadcast on every official channel. Promise a full-scale investiagation. The usual, revenge, an eye for an eye. The task the Secret Police to raid the nearest Tal Shiar station. That should keep them on their toes."  
  
"Sir," his aide said, entering the instructions on his pad. He looked up when the computer beeped to announce the completion of the search program.   
  
The Secretary studied the results, and smirked. There was no humour. Abruptly, he turned the monitor a 180° to let his aide look at the results.  
  
"Alidar Yarok, Navish's younger brother, did not die in an engine malfunction. He was a defector. He deserted to the Federation when he learned about a war-staging outpost on Narendra III. Later he learned that the plans he took with him were fake, part of a scheme to test his loyality. When the Tal Shiar confronted him with his failure, he committed suicide onboard the U.S.S. Enterprise."  
  
The aide looked up from the screen, intrigued.  
  
"What I've told you just now is classified. Only the cabinet and some high-ranking military personnel know about this, as well as the Tal Shiar. This means of course that the entire planet knows."  
  
"Of course," the aide concurred. The Tal Shiar and nekekami had battled each other to a stalemate in an intelligence war that had been dragging on for years. The contempt and fierce competition between the two agencies could, in light of recent events only be washed away by blood.  
  
"What only the Tal Shiar knows, though, is that Alidar Yarok wasn't just some random idealist. He was a nekekami contract agent, sent on this assignment by me predecessor."  
  
The aide looked struck. "Sir?"  
  
"The Tal Shiar have never agreed with our views. The trick played on Yarok was meant to humiliate us, but what it infact did was create a wider base of support for our operations. The populace lost the last inkling of faith they still had in the government. After all, Yarok, a respected officer, and war hero, one of them, openly defied them. The Yarok scandal toppled the government, and made way for the coalition we have forged."  
  
"But sir. This coalition will not last, and you know it."  
  
"Of course it will not last! That idea is absurd. The Tal Shiar only agreed to our policies because they were coerced into it, by a wide-spread public movment for reforms, and the pressure our friends in the Executive Committee of the Senat put on them. We always knew that sooner or later, this mess would fall apart. Seems like they have begun; Navish wasn't killed because of any operational value he still might have. His death was a message."  
  
Uneasily, the Secretary toyed with the blood-stained dagger. Finally he reached a decision.  
  
"We will proceed with the plan. This incident is…unfortunate, but in the end it doesn't affect the operation. Prepare a memo about Navish for all our field officers. Include a warning that they should be on alert for assassination attempts."  
  
"Yes, sir. But if I am to be honest, sir, I think you should consider leaving Romulus. If Navish was indeed a message, as you say sir, then you are in danger. As leader of the political arm, your death would be even more of a blow to us."  
  
The Secretary smiled. "No, Taneb, I am safe. I am to exposed to kill off. The reform movement have accepted me as their figurehead. If I were to die, like Navish did, the Tal Shiar would be facing a civil war." He shook his head slowly, biting his lower lip. "No, I will not leave here. Establish a secure line with Colonel Janika, high priority. I need to speak with her urgently." He looked on, as his aide made the entries in his notepad. "Other than that, Taneb, you know what to do."  
  
Knowing he was dismissed, the aide bowed respectfully at the waist, and silently let the Secretary to his thoughts. 


	4. Chapter 3 - Deliberate Action

No more to chiefs and ladies bright,  
  
The harp of Tara swells;  
  
The chord alone, that breaks at nightt,  
  
Its tale of ruin tells.  
  
Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes,  
  
The only throb she gives,  
  
Is when some heart indignant breaks,  
  
To show that she still lives  
  
The harp that once through Tara's halls, by Thomas Moore  
  
  
  
----------------------------------  
  
Chapter 3 – Deliberate Action  
  
StarBase 89  
  
Jean-Luc Picard arrived first in the conference room of StarBase 89. The emergency meeting that had been announced an hour ago worried him; though he certainly wasn't a bad diplomat, and could stand his ground in meetings as this, he could not fathom the reason he had been called here. The confidential message from Admiral Haze had reached him in the middle of the investigation he had been charged to conduct, about the shuttle explosion that had killed a young StarFleet security officer on his way to Earth. What was his name again, Malenkov something? So far, forensic analysis of the wreckage had yielded no clear results. The only discovery they had made so far, was a mysterious message, transmitted to the shuttle minutes before its destruction. LaForge originally thought that this message somehow triggered this explosion, but since he could not uncover any more evidence supporting this, he eventually discarded that idea. The possibility of it being nothing more than an unfortunate accident was similarily discarded, after Picard learned that Malenkov had apparently been on a secret assignment of the utmost importance. He was eager to get back on Enterprise, and check in on LaForge and Data's progress in the matter.   
  
Standing idly in front of one of the large panorama windows, he turned around as he heard the doors open. An unlikely group of people entered the room: the seemingly inevitable Captain Ryan, chatting to a Romulan officer Picard had not yet met, and behind them came a towering Klingon in StarFleet uniform. Picard smiled, recognizing him.   
  
"Mr Worf," he said, extending his hand. "I had no idea you were going to attend this meeting!"  
  
Worf shook his hand. "Originally I wasn't, sir. Admiral Haze's message was meant for General Martok. Unfortunately he is still on Qu'onos. I am here in his stead."  
  
The Klingon's deep, booming voice reminded him of the seven years he had served with him on the Enterprise D.  
  
"It's good to see you, Worf, whatever the reasons. We haven't heard from you, ever since that business with the Ba'Ku. A lot has happened since then."  
  
"Indeed," Worf said, casting a sidelong glance at the Romulan officer. "Much has happened."  
  
"Who would have thought? Personally, I've always thought that an alliance with the Romulan Empire could be a valuable asset to the Federation."  
  
"I have my doubts about that, sir," Worf muttered through his teeth.  
  
Picard studied him. "I know you are familiar with Klingon history, Worf; decades ago a Klingon General had similar feelings about Klingons and Humans." He looked at the Romulan and Ryan, still talking. "'No peace in our time', Worf." The Klingon's head came up. "His words."   
  
Just then, Colonel Sela entered the room, in a rush. She looked around her, and strode over to the Romulan office, who stood to greet her, and bowed slightly. The bow didn't show much respect; it was more an exaggerated nod than a formal greeting.   
  
Sela eyed him suspiciously. "Where is Janika?"  
  
"Colonel Janika has been recalled to Romulus. My name is Jera, her XO. I am acting as her replacement until she can rejoin us here." He handed her an isolinear chip. "These are my formal orders and a written confirmation from the Colonel."  
  
Sela shot him a glance as she took the chip. "Very well, Major. Report to my quarters onboard the Salatrel after this meeting."  
  
"Sir."  
  
As Sela sat down in her chair, she caught Picard's look, and nodded her head at him.  
  
Picard was about to go over to the Colenel, when the doors opened once again.  
  
Admiral Haze and his adjutant, Captain Benjamin Sisko entered the room.  
  
The Admiral crossed the distance to the conference table in three large strides, motioning everyone present to sit.  
  
"Ladies and Gentlemen," he said, leaning on the table with his knuckles. "I'll break this information down succinctly. Last night, I received a message from Captain Kathryn Janeway onboard Voyager; they have been separated from the Battle Group tasked with attacking the Dominion outpost on Indra Iri IV. An attack by Jem H'Adar forces severely damaged their warp core, and they had to eject it."  
  
A murmur of unrest rose from the StarFleet members around the table. Sela looked bored.  
  
"Captain Janeway informs me that they have decided to abandon ship, rigg it for self-destruct, and try and reach Federation space in shuttles and life-pods. By now, I imagine, Voyager has already been destroyed and the crew are on their way. The only problem is that we now have dozens of life-pods with no warp-capability, plus 2 shuttles, foundered in Dominion space. Any questions so far?"  
  
Picard stirred in his chair, and folded his hands on the table in front of him. He was about to speak when Ryan beat him to it.  
  
"What of the mission, sir?"  
  
Haze sighed. "Well, that's about all the silver lining there is, in this particular cloud. According to Janeway, the mission was a success. The Jem H'Adar outpost has been destroyed and everything of value brought back on Voyager. I doubt that Janeway would leave it behind, now, after so much trouble."  
  
Ryan leant back in his chair, apparently satisfied with this. Picard scrutinized the young man for several moments, then turnt his attention back to the Admiral. "If I may, sir," he said. "What about Captain Janeway and her crew?"  
  
Haze looked back at Sisko, and nodded. Sisko moved around the table and activated a computer display on the far end of the room. A political map of the Alpha and Beta Quadrant came up; the Federation systems shimmered in a light blue, those under Dominion rule red. The Romulan and Klingon territories shone green and golden, respectively. A silver StarFleet delta marked Voyager's last known position.   
  
"As you can see, gentlemen," Sisko's deep voice boomed across the room, "Voyager was far enough behind enemy lines, as to make any conventional attempt at rescuing their crew very dangerous. Now, StarFleet has come up with a plan," he said, wandering across the room, and coming to rest vis-à-vis of Colonel Sela's seat. "but it will require the assistance of the Romulan Star Empire."  
  
Sela looked up at him. "It doesn't exactly take a genius to guess what your brilliant plan will entail," she muttered.   
  
Sisko smiled, slightly. "No it won't. In essence, we need one of your Warbirds."  
  
"Consider it done!" Sela exclaimed, clapping her hands. She rose of her chair and started to leave. "Now if there's nothing more, I have more important matters that need my attention. I shall notify you when the Warbird returns."  
  
"Colonel Sela." Haze's voice made her stop just before she reached the door. Slowly, deliberately, she turned aroud.   
  
"You do, of course, remember our agreement? Concerning the officer exchange program?"  
  
Sela whinced and looked skywards. "Of course, Admiral. Have him report onboard the Salatrel by the end of the day. The ship leaves tomorrow. I expect that all relevant information for this mission be uploaded to our computer core. Gentlemen."  
  
With that, she left the room.   
  
Assuming that the briefing had ended, the remaining officers rose and started leaving the room, but were held back by Haze.  
  
"Jean-Luc, Captain Ryan, if you would stay a little longer please…"  
  
Ryan exchanged a few words in Romuland with Jera, and after everyone else had left stood next to Picard.   
  
"Now," Haze finally said. "first off, Jean-Luc, I hereby appoint Will Riker to be transferred to the Salatrel, until further notice. Following our agreement with Sela, he will serve as first officer to the Warbird's Captain." Picard protested quickly, but was stopped when Haze held up his hand. "I know it'll be a blow to you Jean-Luc, but according to your own logs, Riker's the perfect man for this job. Besides, he was first officer on a Klingon ship a while back, was he not?"  
  
Picard reluctantly confirmed this.  
  
"So, I think he's the man best fitted to this task. The Romulan officer onboard Enterprise, Talina I think, will be acting as your XO, for the time being."  
  
"Yes, sir." Haze eyed him critically.   
  
"You're a good man, Jean-Luc, and a fine diplomat. I expect you to handle this skilfully. Now, on to another matter. The mission to Indra Iri IV was supremely important to us. The outpost was one of the pillars of their communication system, a relay station if you will. We suspect that the computer cores contain vital information about the Dominion war effort. According to Janeway, they retrieved one of the cores before it was fully destroyed. We should be able to salvage at least some useful information at least. This is, I hardly need say it, classified. You may brief Riker on this, but no one else. Also instruct him to use this knowledge, if anything should go awry during the mission. We must not fail!" Picard nodded. "Good then. Captain Ryan, Ariana Shelby has requested that you contact her A.S.A.P."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Good. Now, if for any reason you have to contact me, I will be on the way to Earth within the hour."  
  
Picard raised his eyebrows in astonishment. "Sir?"  
  
"The President scheduled a week-long conference of StarFleet Chief of Staffs. I meant to leave several days ago, but I've been delayed. He'll rip my head off if I don't show up there soon. I'll leave Captain Sisko here as my replacement. Any questions, ask him. Gentlemen." With that he left Picard and Ryan alone.  
  
Ryan nodded at Picard and started for the door, but Picard held him back by the arm. "One moment please…Captain. You work for Ariana Shelby?"  
  
"Yes, sir. Oh, that's right, she served time on the Enterprise, didn't she?"  
  
Picard smiled at the memory. "Yes, she did. She was seconded to me, when she was head of the Borg research department. It was prophesied to me that she would go far, one day."   
  
Ryan grinned. "That, she has. Captain."  
  
-  
  
When he left the room, Ryan found Jera waiting for him, leaning against a bulkhead. When he saw the sulking expression on the Romulan's face, he had to smile.  
  
"Problems, tovaresh?"  
  
"Well, actually," Jera said, drawing the word out, "our dear Colonel Sela has ordered me to take charge of that rescue mission of yours."  
  
"Well perhaps she's realized that you are a man on infinite worth, after all."  
  
Jera laughed. "Hardly. Her exact words, I think, were 'and if you want to do me a favour, stay there'".  
  
Now it was Ryans turn to laugh. "One could almost think she doesn't like you, friend."  
  
"Possibly."  
  
-  
  
Sandhurst  
  
Earth  
  
Ariana Shelby swept trough the ante-room to her office, hardly listening to her aide.  
  
"He's in there waiting for you now, sir," the young woman said. "Oh, and Captain Ryan is holding."  
  
"Thank you, Janet. I'll take the call in there," Shelby said, nodding at her office.  
  
The door admitted her into her den, as she called it, and closed behind her.   
  
"I'd appreciate it if you could get up," she said to the man sitting in her chair. When he had moved off, she activated a scrambling device on her desk, and accepted the call. Ryan's face appeared on a man-high monitor on the left side of the room.   
  
Ryan looked up from whatever he had been studying.  
  
"Christopher."  
  
"Morning, Captain Shelby. What's he doing there?"  
  
"And good morning to you, Captain Ryan," Murdock said. "We're together on this, remember?"  
  
"So you keep saying."   
  
"Allright, enough. Ryan, Murdock, pull yourselves together."  
  
Ryan straightened. "Sir. So, what's up?"  
  
Shelby crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Everything's going to plan, so far. Our man is in position, waiting. He's been told to stay put, and in any case he doesn't know the target yet. The only thing we need now, is evidence. Murdock?"  
  
"We're working on it. Our suspect, however, is very careful about what's he doing. We're picking up transmissions regularly, but we haven't been able to pinpoint their targets so far. We'll have to wait for a mistake on his part."  
  
"I think I might have something better than that," Ryan said. "But I have to check it our first. I'll report back in an hour."  
  
-  
  
U.S.S. Chickenhawk  
  
Ryan's quarters  
  
"So?" Ryan asked. "Can it be done?"  
  
Jera took a deep breath. "No. What you ask is impossible. The Salatrel is Sela's ship. The crew is fiercely loyal to her. It can't be done."  
  
Ryan threw his Padd down in disgust. "Damn!"  
  
"But there might be another way…" Jera said. "How fast can you get your Foxes here?"  
  
"What? All of them?"  
  
"Yes. Quietly though. No one is to know."   
  
"Well, it depends."  
  
"On what?"  
  
"On your plan, if you're ever going to tell me."  
  
As he was told the plan, Ryan grew ever more optimistic. This might just work, he thought.  
  
-  
  
After the transmission had ended, Shelby sat down in her chair, and looked over the desk at Murdock. "If his plan works, we'll have him sooner than we think."  
  
"If his plan works."  
  
"You don't seem to have much confidence in that."  
  
"I am merely being cautious."  
  
"You saw the material he sent us. We have confirmation that our subject is the traitor at least."  
  
"Yes, but we don't have any proof, unless we can decrypt the message Ryan's ship has picked up."  
  
"I shouldn't worry about that too much. I'll have the best analysts I can find working on it by the end of the day. It's no longer in our hands, Murdock. If they can't break the code, we'll never get a chance to do what must be done."  
  
"Well…let's hope Ryan's trust in his…friends isn't misplaced."  
  
"I doubt it. You gave me the reports on Romulus. Your man there compiled it himself, and if what he says is true, we'll have all the help we need."  
  
She looked out the window, at the old forest that separated CnC from the barracks of 14 Int. Reaching a decision, she pushed the button that would summon Janet from the ante-room.  
  
"I'll have a pack of orders for all Fox squadrons ready by the end of the hour. They're to depart immediately."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
-  
  
Romulan Warbird Salatrel  
  
Holding Position at StarBase 89  
  
The form of Will Riker materialised by and by, in a shimmering blue storm, on the transporter platform. When he had shaken of the dizziness, Riker stepped down from the platform and approached the Romulan officer waiting for him.  
  
"I assume you're the captain? I'm Commander Will Riker. I'll be your first officer for the while being."  
  
"My name is Jera," the captain smiled, taking Riker by the shoulder. "Welcome aboard."  
  
-  
  
U.S.S. Enterprise  
  
Captain's Ready Room  
  
The doorbell chimed, and Jean-Luc Picard looked up from the performance report he'd been studying. "Come in," he said, and watched the Romulan woman enter.  
  
"Captain Picard. I understand I am to be your first officer, according to our exchange programme. I hereby report to duty."  
  
"Welcome to StarFleet, Talina. I hold here your first act of command," Picard said, waving the Padd in his hand. "Ensign Brown needs promoting, I think."  
  
- 


End file.
